


I Changed Castro’s speech.

by Maria (Queenofcarnage)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Help, I'm not a dirty commie, Iwan Rheon needs to stop being sexy., My mom raised me better than that., POV Ramsay Bolton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofcarnage/pseuds/Maria
Summary: I blame this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=seTLehEb0kg





	I Changed Castro’s speech.

**Author's Note:**

> For Iwan Rheon. Thanks for fucking my life up.

‘If there is in your hearts a vestige or love for The North, love for humanity, love for justice. Listen carefully; I know that I will be silenced, for many years, I know that the regime will try to suppress the truth by all possible means, I know that; that there will be a conspiracy to bury me in oblivion, but … my voice will not be stilled, it will rise from my breast even when I feel, most alone, & my heart. Will give it all the fire that callous cowards, deny it! From a cave in the mountains, I listen to the King’s voice on the outside of my tent, while the long cherished hopes of freeing our people lay in ruins. Around us. We heard those crushed hopes gloated over by a tyrant, more vicious more arrogant, than ever. Than the ever endless stream of lies and slanders. That poured forth from his crude odious repulsive language, may only be compared to the stream of clean young and old blood. Which had flowed since the previous night a circle of more than a thousand men armed with weapons more powerful than ours with orders to bring in our bodies was closing in around us. When Wildlings turned The North into workshop of torture and death some shameful individuals turn their furs into butchers aprons the walls were splattered with blood, the arrows embedded in the walls were encrusted with singed bits of brains and human hair, the grisly of horses running full in the face. The snow around the castle, was dark and sticky with human blood, the criminal hands that are guiding the destiny of The North. Had written for the prisoners, at the entrance of that den of death the very inscription of  the Hells, forsake all hope; in every society there of base instincts, the sadist, the brutes go about in the guise of human beings but they are monsters, only more or less restrained by discipline and social habit; if they are offered a drink from a river of blood, they will not be satisfied until they drink the river dry. Throughout their torturing of our men the army offered them the chance to save their lives by betraying their ideology when they indignantly rejected that proposition, the wildings continued with their horrible tortures they crushed their testicles and they tore out their eyes; but no one yielded, no complaint was heard, nor a favour asked. Even, when they had been deprived of their virile organs our men were still a thousand times more men that all their tormentors together. And songs which do not lie, show the bodies torn to pieces. For my dead men I claim no vengeance since their lives were priceless, the wildlings could not pay for them, even with their own lives. It is not by blood that we may redeem the lives of those who died, for The North. The happiness of our people is the only tribute worthy of them. What is more my men are neither nor dead nor forgotten. They live today. More than ever … and their murderers will view with dismay the victorious spirit of their ideas rise from their corpses. I am a humble lord who one day demanded in vain that the courts punished the power hungry men, who violated the law and torn our institutions to shreds the right of against tyranny has been recognized from the most ancient times by man of all creeds and ideas and doctrines. The city-states of Valryia & Dorne  not only admitted but defended the meting out of violent death to tyrants,’ 


End file.
